


velcro with only one side

by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Attachment Issues, Depression, Gen, but like lack of attachment not codependency, vent fic tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcrusader/pseuds/batofgoodintent
Summary: “I think there’s something wrong with me.”“We dress up like bats and catch criminals for fun, and you’re just now figuring that out?”(Or, Tim's having some trouble lately feeling attached to people. Probably because everyone in his life has died or abandoned him or ignored him.)





	velcro with only one side

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“We dress up like bats and catch criminals for _fun_ , and you’re just now figuring that out?”

Despite the humor in Stephanie’s tone, it did little to lift Tim’s mood. He pulled his knees up to his chest, shrinking into himself in that big office chair in front of the bat-computer.

His silence must have meant something to Stephanie, though, because she stopped at the punching bag and started over to the electronic, case-solving behemoth of the bat-computer. Tim could hear her peel off the Velcro of her boxing clubs, could hear the elastic hand-wrap unraveling as she headed towards him.

“Tim?” she asked. “Hello? Joke of the year, and nothing?”

“I’ve heard funnier,” he said without looking up. Tim mindlessly clicked through a few security cameras around the city, just to see if there was trouble, but nothing caught his eye. Maybe he was just in too much of a daze to notice anything, or maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to focus on crime when everything felt _wrong_.

Stephanie leaned closer to the bat-computer-chair, then rested a hand on Tim’s shoulder. She peered closer to the computer screens, clearly trying to get a read on what Tim was doing. “This supposed to mean anything, Tim?”

“No.”

“Exciting night, huh? Maybe we’ll get lucky and no one in Gotham will wanna do crime tonight.” Even as she said it, she knocked on a tiny wooden panel next to the bat-computer, just in case. When Tim failed to respond yet again—even to her silly superstition—Stephanie frowned. “Tim, you’ve _gotta_ give me something to go on here.”

“You should work on your detective skills anyways. Figure it out for yourself.”

Stephanie stiffened.

It took Tim a moment to realize how that probably sounded, and he cringed as he realized just how much of a dick he probably sounded like.

(Lower case d. Dick Grayson was better than that; wouldn’t insult Stephanie when she’d done nothing wrong. Wouldn’t shut down and try to force his friends to figure out what was wrong with him. At least, that’s what Tim wanted to think. Realistically, he knew Dick Grayson could be a hell of a dick, but most of his dickish moments had been years ago, when things were spiraling out of control.)

Tim took a slow breath through his nose, then closed his eyes and counted back from ten. “Sorry.”

“Just tired? Burning the candle at both ends?” Stephanie asked. And Tim kind of hated that she was so quick to make an excuse for him. Yet he felt a prick of anger when she lightly elbowed him and added, “Or are you just a jerk tonight?”

“No more so than usual.”

Silence fell between them for another moment. Tim cycled through the screens on the bat-computer.

“So. You said you think something’s wrong with you,” Stephanie finally said. “Exciting stuff. Wanna share?”

Tim quirked his lips to the side. “I think I’m starting to regret saying anything.”

“Well, too late now. No takebacksies.”

At her light prodding—literal and figurative, with the elbow jabbing his side again—Tim sighed again and relinquished himself to her questioning. “Do you think something’s wrong with me?”

“Medically?”

Tim shot her a weak glare.

“Right, sorry. Dentally?”

“I still have half my real teeth,” Tim muttered as he looked back at the bat-computer screens.

Seeing Tim pull further into himself seemed to inspire Stephanie to take a stronger stand, so she pulled on one of the chair’s armrests until Tim was facing her. “Hey. Look at me. What do you mean, you think something’s wrong with you?” she asked. “I’m not going to treat you like a case, Tim. Just talk to me.”

Silence fell between them for a solid minute.

Tim stared at Stephanie, and she held his gaze. Finally, Tim lowered his, and in doing so, he knew he’d lost the battle.

“I don’t think I feel attached to people anymore.”

Stephanie raised both brows, then reached out to take his forearm. “You… what?”

Tim raised his eyes briefly to the ceiling, then swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I don’t—getting close to people is, just—it’s. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Like, can as in want to?”

“No. I just—I don’t feel anything. Not lately.” He paused. “Not all the time, though. Sometimes I feel, you know. A flicker of like, ‘oh, this person means something to me.’ But. God.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking like the mess he felt like. “I… Nothing long term.”

Stephanie furrowed her brows. “So like, depression?”

“No?”

“Then help me understand, okay?” Stephanie leaned against the desktop of the bat-computer. “I’m not… If I sound judgy, I swear I don’t mean to. But I don’t know what you mean, Tim.”

He bit his lip, thinking back through his growing-up years.

How was he supposed to explain that he’d latched onto Batman and Robin because his parents just didn’t care about him? How was he supposed to explain that Bruce and Dick had been a fresh start, a way to feel something for people and help the people of Gotham, to feel like he had a purpose, and people who wanted him? How was he supposed to explain that every bond he formed after that was a damn miracle, considering his childhood?

How was he supposed to tell her that once everyone he loved started dying, he was brought back to that place before, where connecting with people was _hard_?

How could he tell her that it didn’t feel worth it to get close to people anymore when so many of them had dropped out of his life? How could he tell her that he just didn’t feel _anything_ anymore, not even with bonds that had once been so strong?

“Everyone’s been dying lately,” he finally said. “It’s like my brain just kind of… force-reboots every time I get close to someone again.”

Stephanie was quiet for a minute. It was probably pretty clear that Tim had more he wanted to say—but she didn’t know how to force him to come out with it.

Instead, she just took his hand. “That sucks.”

Tim quirked his lips to the side. “Yeah. Well. That’s just my life at this point.”

And of course it wasn’t just his life. It felt selfish to focus on his attachment issues when everyone he knew and loved had died recently and come back and was probably dealing with a hell of a lot of trauma. But god, he wished he could figure out a way to get his brain back to where it was two years ago.

Back when it was starting to feel normal, having people who loved and cared about him.

Back when he didn’t doubt the affection his friends had for him. Back when he had the same affection right back at them.

Back when he could _feel_.

He opened his mouth to say something else, to explain that just because he didn’t feel strong attachment didn’t mean that he wanted to leave. To explain that he still wanted to be here, because even if he didn’t feel anything, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to his family or friends, either. To explain that if they needed him, he’d probably still be there and feel empathy in the moment and try to help them with whatever they were going though, he just didn’t know how to feel that connection unless the situation depended on it.

But before he could even get one word out, he saw one of the bat-computer screens light up with activity.

“Later,” he finally said. “I think there’s an armed robbery on 12th and Elm. We should suit up.”

Stephanie hesitated for just a moment, but they both knew there was nothing to say to that.

Lives were more important than anything Tim had to say for himself. And there was nothing stopping them from resolving this later, like he said.

(But the odds of Tim actually opening up again? Slim.)

(It was a shame, because maybe if he could explain what he meant by not feeling attached—explain that he still probably loved everyone on some level, just not a tangible one, and he just needed to dig deeper to find those feelings again—maybe then everything could feel normal again.)

(But then again, since when had bats ever been normal?)

**Author's Note:**

> vent fic for me because im struggling to feel strong feelings for anyone rn, which probably isnt good, but also cant be helped. is it depression? a side effect of childhood neglect??? whos to say!


End file.
